


You Had Me At...

by FoxVII



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Drug Use (Implied), Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Prison, dating app, run-in with drug dealers, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII
Summary: When Donna signs Harvey up for a new dating app, all Harvey expects is to enjoy this new outlet for casual torment. What he isn't expecting is to find Mike Ross.





	You Had Me At...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @aspirateur-killeuse who asked for a 'meeting on a website AU'. I hope this delivers! Happy Holidays to you and yours and have a wonderful new year! <3

 

“I do _not_ need help getting a date.”

“You don't need help getting _laid_ ,” Donna corrected, patiently. “That's not the same thing.”

Harvey tapped his fingers against the tabletop then drew his hand into a fist to keep from doing it again. “I don’t have _time_ to date. The arrangement works.” One night stands weren’t...fulfilling, exactly, but they satisfied the need for sex and human company. No hurt feelings. No attachments.

“I work just as much as you do, Harvey and _I_ have time,” Donna countered, with the elegant flip of her wrist. She lifted the wine glass to her mouth, the restaurant lights catching off the rim of the crystal.

“That’s different.”

“ _How_?”

He didn’t have an answer to that. “‘Cause you’re Donna,” he slid back, smooth as silk with a smile to match. All he received in return was a flat, unimpressed stare.

“As true as that is, my awesomeness isn’t what’s in question here. Just, for god’s sake, try it. If you don’t like it you can delete it from your phone. If nothing else, it’ll make your hookups more efficient.”

“And you’re not going to let this go are you?” Harvey asked, dryly. He understood that Donna’s prodding into his personal life came from a place of genuine love and concern. But that also didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. He caved, as he always did where Donna-related matters were concerned.

“Nope,” she answered, with a pop of her lips to round out the note.

Harvey made a show of looking put out, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket to take  out his phone. “Which app?”

“It’s already on your home screen,” she said, without looking up from the menu. Harvey stared at the crown of her head.

“How…?”

“What have I told you about asking questions, Harvey? So before you ask, your profile is already set up.”

Harvey didn't know if it was possible to love and hate in equal measure, but he supposed that was what it meant to be family.

 

***

 

Truth be told, the app lent Harvey more amusement than he’d expected. Or, to be more precise, it leant Harvey an outlet.

He’d been told that he could only rip into his associate once per week, else he’d have some kind of human rights violation on his hands. Harvey insisted that if Kyle couldn’t handle every _well-earned_ scathing remark then he really should stop wasting everyone’s time and just quit. Jessica’s patience had long worn too thin for Louis to continue being a viable target...though really, that hardly stopped Harvey from calling on his pompous behaviour every chance he got.

So the unfortunate strangers who approached him through the dating app took the brunt of the blow. He took particular care to torment those who couldn’t bother to check for typos before sending him a hello (‘Hi gorgos’ was met with ‘goodbye mediocre’) or capitalize sentences (‘Are you quite sure you have the IQ to be using this app?’) or type out full words (‘Sorry I only talk to people who’ve passed high school’).

If Donna’s intention had been for him to be happy, she had succeeded in her mission...Albeit, in entirely the wrong way.

It wasn’t until the third week that things got interesting.

>> Listen, can I ask you a personal question?

The asker passed the initial checks of spelling, grammar and punctuation, though Harvey had to wonder who would open a conversation with something so intrusive.

Although...

>> **That depends.**

A twofold answer. It was the logical one to the question that was posed, but also...

>> Are you a good pilot?

Harvey bit back a smile. Bingo.

>> **I can hold my own.**

>> Great, then I won't have to worry about you making your living as a lawyer.

>> **Since you diverged from the quote I can take the chance to say that I do amazing as a lawyer, thank you.**

Harvey sent the message and then tapped on the sender’s icon to go to his profile. Mike Ross. Younger than him, though not alarmingly so. Definitely attractive, and apparently came with the wit to go along with the sharpness of his blue eyes.

Well, for now. Anyone who was willing to open with a movie quote was leagues more interesting than the vapid contacts he’d gotten previously.

He tapped the notification icon to reopen the messaging window.

>> Between the suit and the hair, I’ll bet.

>> “What’s your area of practice? Litigation? Prosecutor?

A beat, and then.

>> Patent law?

>> **Patent law wouldn’t get me in a suit this nice.**

Obviously.

>> **Corporate.**

>> **You?**

He didn’t get a response right away. In fact, the delay was long enough that he had almost forgotten about the interaction - he was a busy man and as interesting the diversion, it didn’t take precedence over closing the loopholes in a merger contract. It was five hours until his phone lit up again with a new notification.

>> bike messenger.

Reading people over text was vastly different from reading someone face to face. That being said, Harvey didn’t have to know Mike to sense the underlying bitterness in those two words.

>> **I’m going to take a leap and say that it’s not exactly your dream job.**

Although, that begged the question as to why he didn’t make a career change himself. If he was so dissatisfied with his life then he could just...leave. Unless Mike had dependents...But even then, children were all the more reason to leave a shitty, dead-end job for greener pastures.

>> not quite.

So either Mike was lazy, or just generally screwed by life. Harvey had no patience for the former, even though he hadn’t gotten his own shit together until the kick in the ass that was Jessica Pearson. Otherwise he would’ve probably died working in that mailroom.

If it was the case of bad luck...Well, Jessica was always harping on him to do more charity work. Being someone else's’ kick in the ass would count, wouldn’t it?

>> **And?**

>> and what?

>> **And, if you’re dissatisfied, why haven’t you done anything about it?**

Mike replied back with all the tact of a bristling cat.

>> It’s not that easy.

Harvey snorted.

>> **Why not?**

>> long story.

 

***

 

Work slammed in like a seaside storm after that, and Harvey had neither the time nor the spare patience needed to form another response. The matter was shifted to the back of his mind, where he kept things that weren’t immediately important but he would get to at a later date. Like having Donna renew his gym membership, or calling the cable company for the yearly ‘give me a better deal’ haggle. (It wasn’t that he was strapped for cash but it was an effort made for the principle of the thing.)

So it wasn’t until a week later that he spoke to Mike again and, surprisingly, it wasn’t over text.

Bike messengers didn’t make it up to the 50th floor where his office was, and even if they did, they certainly didn’t get past Donna. So it was a matter of chance that Harvey saw Mike when he did, in the lobby waving a box in the face of a stony security guard, painted with a faint sheen of sweat and a messenger bag strapped to his back.

"Listen, I need to get this delivered so the sooner you just let me up there the sooner I can do my job and just get out of your hair and we can all go home."

"I can't let you up there."

"Oh come ON. What do you think I'm going to do? Rob the place? I'm here with a messenger bag. What am I going to run off with?"

“You both must be new here.” Both heads turned at the sound of Harvey’s voice.

“Mail room’s down that way,” Harvey said, nodding down the northernmost hall. “Deliveries never go up directly.” Harvey would know. He'd worked there for years, after all.

“It said urgent,” Mike murmured, chastised. He lowered the arm, the box with it, and sent a look over his shoulder. And then looked back at Harvey.

Harvey could pinpoint the exact moment it clicked. Mike gave him a once over (hair, moles, eyes, suit, shoes, eyes again) and coughed in surprise. “You…?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, sparing him the trouble of stating the obvious. He allowed himself a look while Mike floundered. He was as cute in person as he was in pictures, albeit in a haphazard 'I only have enough fucks to give to wake up and get dressed’ kind of way. Harvey itched to take a comb to his hair. Or force him to shave.

At least he had a nice ass.

“This way. I'll show you to the mail room and we’ll get coffee.” Harvey swept by him, not waiting to see if Mike would follow. He knew he would. And sure enough, the quick taps of his feet approached and then slowed as Mike fell into step beside him.

“I still have deliveries. And how is it that guy like you even knows where the mailroom is?”

“When you work in the penthouse you learn to admire the view. Besides. I used to work here.”

The steps stopped suddenly, and then picked up again, faster to remake the lost ground. “No way.”

“Way.” Harvey had clawed his way up to where he was now and it didn't hurt his pride to admit that he wasn't born into this upper echelon. That being said, he drew the line at letting people know _exactly_ how much of a mess he had been. Only Jessica was privy to _that_.

“Here.” Harvey pulled open the door and nodded inside. “Drop that off and let’s go.”

“I _said_ I had deliveries.” A beat, and then. “You really don't take no for an answer do you?”

“Technically you haven't said ‘no’. You've made excuses. And I don't take excuses as an answer.”

Mike muttered under his breath. “ _Definitely_ a lawyer.” He looked up, the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. “Fine.”

 

***

 

Harvey led them to the coffee cart that he favoured, then down the street to Central Park. He held both cups in his hand, Mike a step behind him, wheeling along the bike that he’d insisted on bringing. Harvey sat on a bench, patiently holding Mike’s coffee out to for him as Mike figured out how to lay his bike. It needed to be against the bench, close enough that it was within easy reach but far enough that he wasn’t knocking knees with it.

Once Mike was done with his mental math, he sat beside him, accepting the paper cup and holding it between his hands.

“So if you want to be a lawyer so badly, why haven’t you just gone to law school?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee and waiting for Mike to finish being offended.

“Who said I wanted to be a lawyer?”

Harvey shot him a flat look. “I read people.”

Mike’s shoulders came up. “And what is it to you anyway? Maintaining a standard?”

He looked more embarrassed and almost tired than defensive. “For the people I date? Yes. But we aren’t dating, we’re having coffee. So, call it curiosity. You said it was a long story. Let’s hear it.”

Mike’s jaw worked as he either pulled together an explanation, or more hostilities. His shoulders came down. “I was part-way there. When I was in college it was my dream to be a lawyer. But, a friend of mine got into trouble. He needed some money and convinced me to memorize this math test and sell the answers. Turns out we sold it to the dean’s daughter. I lost my scholarship and got kicked out of school.”

“Why didn’t he just memorize the test himself?”

“It didn’t--I just have this thing.”

“A thing.”

“Once I read something and understand it, I never forget it.”

“A photographic memory.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Tale of Two Cities._ Opening sentence. Go.” The sentence which was itself a paragraph long.

There was a quick tick in Mike’s jaw, a flicker in the eyes before he began to speak. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only,” Mike recited off.

Harvey guessed that this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to test him. “ _Alice in Wonderland_.”

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, `and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice `without pictures or conversation?'”

“ _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ ,”

“Oh you _would_ ,” Mike snickered, then added, “The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”

“Is it just visual or auditory as well?”

“Perfect visual, as in, I don’t have to try. Near-perfect auditory, but only if I’m paying attention.”

“Hence the movie quote.”

“Top Gun is just an awesome movie.”

“True that.”

Mike fiddled with his now-empty coffee cup before tossing it toward the nearest garbage can. He missed. Harvey snickered.

“Listen, I should get out of your hair,” Mike said, with a pointed look up at Harvey’s hair.

Harvey grinned. “Sure.” Harvey let him go. For now.

 

***

 

The next time that Harvey saw Mike it was over dinner. They had been messaging back and forth - over text, having graduated from the app’s sub-par messaging system - sporadically for three weeks now. Mike had seemed genuinely surprised to hear from him again, and that made Harvey feel….something.

Harvey wasn’t an altruistic person. Not by nature. When he stopped to think about what this was, he decided that it was part frustration, part fascination and part a maniacal need to know and _understand_.

Mike was genuinely intelligent, and it was both baffling and infuriating that he was just letting it all go to waste out of his misguided sense of loyalty to his douchebag friend. That, and what Harvey assumed to be a deep-seated desire not to let life knock him down a second time.

You couldn’t fall if you were living at rock bottom.

It pissed him off that someone of genuine talent and potential was making ends meet with a shitty bike messenger job while Harvey was forced to work with lesser minds.

Well, a shitty bike messenger job along with - or so Harvey was beginning to suspect - a smattering of shadier professions.

“You had mobsters after you?”

Mike shoveled another fork-load of steak into his mouth before answering. “Yeah. See, the thing is, Trevor--”

“Save it.” Harvey hadn’t made his disdain for the illustrious Trevor a secret. He was beginning to hate the sound of his name.

“‘Kay.”

“You got away.” Clearly.

“Yeah. Saw two police officers on the street and walked up to them, asking them which way Central Park was. Pointed in the guys’ direction. They ran off after that.”

Harvey shook his head, at once impressed and downright horrified because this kid was one wrong move away from becoming a statistic. “How did you think to do that?”

“I read this novel in elementary school--”

“You read a _novel_. In elementary school.”

Mike puffed up. “I told you. I like to read.” He looked more polished than he had during their last meeting. But then, considering the old tee and sweats that he’d been biking around in, even the bargain bin suit that he was wearing now was an upgrade. Mike smoothed down his tie - too narrow, terrible pattern, its only redeeming quality being the shade of blue bringing out his eyes - and asked, “So that pro-bono you were working on...Did you win?”

It was Harvey’s turn to puff. “Of course I won.”

“Settlement?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing.”

“It is,” he conceded, because it was. “Also got her a full reinstatement of employment and a scholarship for her kid”

“And the asshole?”

“Off to rehab and sensitivity training.”

“Awesome.”

“It is.” Harvey waited a second for it to sink in and then, “You could’ve been a part of that.”

“Harvey.”

“It’s true. You keep asking me about my pro bono cases, which, mind you, are only half as interesting as making major corporations bow to my will.”

“Maybe my interests are different from yours.”

“Or maybe you just want to help people.”

Silence. And then, “Is this going to be every date?”

Harvey grinned, all teeth. “Maybe not once you get back in school.” Thinking-long term. That was new. When did that happen?

Mike looked about ready to launch another protest, but wisely decided against it. “How about dessert first?”

A more genuine smile this time. “Why not?”

 

***

 

He had really thought he was making some forward progress with Mike. The word ‘law school’ was dropped into their conversations almost daily these days.

“Harvey, I was _kicked out_ ,” Mike countered. Though at this point, he sounded more like he was trying to reason out the logistics _with_ him than actually argue against the idea of going back to school.

They were sprawled out on Harvey's couch this time. Or rather, Mike was sprawling, his legs cast in Harvey’s lap. Harvey, on the other hand, was sitting. Like a civilized person. (And slowly working his hand under the cuff of Mike’s pant leg like a less-civilized person.)

“And?”

“And--! The dean called every law school in the area and said I’d never get in.”

“You still don’t think I have the ability to pull strings? I'm insulted.”

Mike thought on that. “I never finished my degree.”

“More strings. You'll go back and finish where you left off. Try again.”

“I lost my scholarship. I can’t pay for school _and_ Grammy’s care.”

“You can borrow money.”

“From?”

“Me.”

“Harvey.” Mike sat up, regrettably pulling his legs out of fondling range. “I’m not taking your money.”

“It’d be a loan. We can talk repayment later.” His voice gentled, sensing that Mike was about to cut and run. Feeling overwhelmed was a natural reaction, Harvey supposed. He’d felt the same when he’d first been faced with Jessica Pearson’s fearsome capacity for generosity. He’d paid her back twice over, both literally for what she'd given him for law school, and with the money he was raking in for the firm. Mike needed the same heavy hand and the same persistent force pushing him to success.

That, and maybe he was starting to have just a bit of a crush on him. Helping Mike also kept him close.

Win-win.

“There--There would be conditions. I’m not a charity case.”

Debatable. “Sure.”

“And I need something else from you too.”

“What’s that?”

“A kiss.”

Harvey’s smile grew to shark-like proportions. He crawled over, pinning Mike between himself and the couch back. He guessed that Mike was asking more for the sake of feeling reassured than to be coy, but Harvey wasn’t going to complain about his motives.

Not this time, anyway.

“I’m going to have to teach you how to bargain. It’s not a victory if you’re just getting what the other party was willing to give anyway.”

Mike licked his lips, eyes glued to Harvey’s mouth. “Feels like a victory.”

They kissed.

 

***

 

Forward movement. So, it was a surprise when Mike dropped off the face of the Earth a day later.

No texts answered, All calls going to voicemail. Harvey prided himself on being a hands-off partner, but considering that Mike had consistently answered his texts within five minutes of receiving them, Harvey noticed the change.

But he let it go. Things happened. People had bad days. Fine.

By the evening he was almost expecting the phone call.

“Harvey…”

Harvey smothered down the rush of relief he felt at hearing his voice. “What happened?”

“I’m. I’m so sorry I didn’t know who else I could call and I didn’t _want_ to but I couldn’t--”

“ _Mike._ ”

“Iminprison,” he said, all at once.

“Trevor?” Harvey asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as though it’d somehow stem the rapid waning of his patience.

“Sort-of. I just. You know what? I’m sorry I called I shouldn’t have bothered you I just--”

“Sit tight. I’m coming to get you.” He hung up before Mike could spiral out into a hundred more apologies.

 

***

 

Sitting across the interview table from Mike now felt like an eerie cousin of their first dinner. Gone were the dim restaurant lights, the tablecloth and soft music. In its place was a cold room, concrete walls and a cold, steel table.

“Not how I pictured things when I imagined you in handcuffs,” Harvey drawled, breaking the silence.

Something complex passed over Mike’s face, some mixture of confusion, realization and then interest which was promptly wiped away by guilt and regret. Mike dropped his head into his hands, just breathing in once before looking up at Harvey,

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I screwed everything up.”

“You almost did. Now tell me what happened.”

“Trevor got into trouble again. He needed a drop done by tonight. He couldn't go himself because the guys he's in debt with kept him as collateral to make sure they'd get their money.”

“So you decided to deal in his place.”

“It was just the one drop. I do the job. Trevor’s free. Then I'm out. Only the deal was a bust. They arrested me as soon as I walked into that hotel room.”

Mike looked up, something desperate on his face. “It was just the one time, Harvey. I wouldn't deal otherwise. It was just this once, to save his life and then--” Mike cut himself off. “Oh god I--Trevor. I was supposed to be back with the money by now they've probably--”

“Your friend is fine,” Harvey said. “Ex-friend, that is.”

Mike scrubbed his face with his palms. “He. How?”

“I know people. I figured that it wouldn't go unnoticed if twenty five grand of pot just went missing. They’d know you were busted for dealing and they'd lose their leverage by killing Trevor and any chance of getting their money back. So I had Vanessa do some digging--”

“Vanessa?”

“My PI. Keep up, Mike.”

“Your private--Are you real?”

“I’m practically godlike, I know. At any rate, your friend is safe. Pissed himself in there, but safe, and I've had him shipped off to Vermont. And since you're not complaining about that, I’m guessing you won't mind taking the deal I have for you.”

“What deal?”

“You walk away from this with a clean slate. They agreed not to press charges if you agree to testify against the dealers who put you up to this. And you're going to have to do something for me too. Personally.”

“What?”

“You quit smoking - don't argue, I know you still do - you agree never to speak to Trevor ever again, you go back to school as planned, and then you come work for me.”

A choked sound punched from Mike's chest, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You're still. You still want to? Help me?”

“What do you call this? Yes, I want to help. But believe me, I'm getting something from this too.”

Mike's jaw worked as he thought it through. As a final push, Harvey softened his voice, saying, “It's a good deal, Mike. Take it.”

Mike's head hit the table with a soft thump. “I feel like I'm selling my soul to the devil.”

“I'm much nicer.”

Harvey waved in an officer to free Mike from his cuffs. They dropped a folder in front of him and Harvey waited while Mike signed the needed affidavit. That done, they stood, Harvey leading Mike out of the precinct with a hand at the small of his back.

“You bailed me out before you came to talk to me,” Mike noted, as they walked out of the police station without anyone sending a second glance their way.

“I did.”

“You knew I'd take the deal.”

“I did.”

“I'm not going to be able to pay this back.”

“You will.” They stopped in front of Harvey's town car. “It doesn't seem like that now, but you will. And you should’ve told me sooner before you got in over your head. From now on, you tell me everything. Consider that part of our deal.”

“You can't keep adding conditions after the fact,” Mike said, though from the tone of his voice he didn't seem like he entirely minded. Or perhaps it was simply the relief from not being in jail that was making him generous.

“Ah, but you already sold me your soul. It's a moot point.”

“Fair enough,” Mike said, with a quick laugh. He looked to the side, bit his lip and then looked back, taking the half-step forward that he needed to bring them chest to chest. “So, about repayment…”

Harvey put a hand between them. “We’re not playing it like that,” he told him. His tone was mild but his expression left no room for levity. Coercion belonged in the courtroom, not his bedroom.

“It's not going to be like that.”

“No? 'Cause I don't want it if you're just feeling grateful.”

“I _am_ feeling grateful. But this isn't about being _that_ kind of grateful. This is about me wanting to pass out somewhere soft for about ten hours, and your bed looks like it's made of clouds. And if I'm already in your bed it'd just be a matter of efficiency if you shared it with me. I mean. It's _your_ bed after all.”

Harvey was silent for a minute, watching Mike, looking for a hint of trepidation or resignation. He found neither. Only bone-deep exhaustion and genuine attraction

“Fine. You take your nap and then we’ll see about other things after that.”

Mike gave him a cheeky salute, to which Harvey responded only by rolling his eyes and opening the car door for him. He walked around to the other side and slid into his seat.

“Ray? Take us home.”

 


End file.
